This morning when we were settling into our first game of poker at the Birch Street Nursing Home, the Birch Street Cemetery caretaker knocked on the door. I was immediately concerned because he only shows up when one of the patients dies, and I hadn't yet seen Mr. Pearlman. But the cemetery caretaker assured me he was just there to see Crystal. I was afraid to ask, but I think he was there to take Crystal's measurements for a coffin. It's sad that none of the doctors that have seen her in the last seven months have been able to find a cure.
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